


Sauce

by fengirl88



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Liquid Ficlets, M/M, writing meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-06
Updated: 2011-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fengirl88/pseuds/fengirl88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...That sort of October day that always feels like the start of something, even though the leaves are turning colour or already fallen.  Crisp blue sky and a different kind of light somehow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sauce

**Author's Note:**

> Written for capt_spork's request at my writing meme. This particular October day is the one Lestrade remembers in Beginning To See The Light.

Half-way through his shower, Lestrade realizes he's singing that HP sauce ad from years back, the one they did to “In The Summertime”. It's been ages since he had brown sauce for breakfast, but this morning he'd really fancied a full English for once. Probably not a good idea to go for a run on top of that, though. Do it the other way round next time. If there is a next time.

He's still whistling it when he gets to the Yard.

“It's October,” Dimmock says reprovingly. Never afraid to state the obvious.

“I know,” Lestrade says, grinning.

So it is. That sort of October day that always feels like the start of something, even though the leaves are turning colour or already fallen. Crisp blue sky and a different kind of light somehow.

“You're in a good mood today,” Donovan says.

Sounding surprised. Relieved, too. OK, he's been on a short fuse recently, bit down in the mouth, but he hadn't realized it'd been _that_ bad.

“Nice day,” he says.

Which doesn't begin to describe it. Knew something was different as soon as he woke up, took him a while to realize what. It was gone: that feeling he'd had for the last few months. All that confusion and unhappiness about Sherlock, weighing him down like a fucking albatross round his neck. Wanting Sherlock, wondering if Sherlock had ever wanted him or ever would, trying not to think about that weird night they'd had together and what it all meant. If it meant anything at all.

But today he'd woken up thinking _Bloody hell, I'm starving_. Looking out at the sunshine, feeling his heart lift.

 _Finally ditched the albatross_. He grins.

“Must be shagging someone,” Tyler mutters.

“'Bout time,” Donovan says. “Just so long as it's not _him_.”

She's stopped calling Sherlock Freak, but Lestrade knows who she means.

“Shh,” Smith says. “He's not deaf, you know.”

An hour or so later there's a bunch of them round Donovan's desk, laughing and squabbling. Sound of pound coins dropping into a biscuit tin. Huh.

They're so preoccupied they don't notice him, and he sees the heading on the sheet before Donovan can shove it out of sight.

 **DI's New Boyfriend Sweepstake: £1 a ticket**

Everybody knows this sort of thing goes on. _Sauce_ , Annie the cook at the big house would have called it. _That's enough of your sauce, you cheeky bugger_.

Donovan's face says she's expecting him to call it something worse than that. Insubordination, most likely. Christ knows, these days it probably counts as sexual harassment into the bargain.

Everyone's gone very quiet.

Lestrade digs in his pocket and pulls out a pound coin.

“Put me down for a ticket,” he says. “Better not tell me who I get in the draw, though. Might prejudice the result. Don't want a stewards' enquiry.”

Donovan manages a shaky smile. He drops his coin into the tin with the rest and she puts the lid on it.

“OK,” he says. “Let's get ready for that press conference.”

His phone buzzes. Text from Sherlock, saying “Wrong!”

“He's starting early,” Donovan says.

“Must be at a loose end,” Lestrade says.

He deletes the text, whistling again. Because whatever Sherlock might think to the contrary, Lestrade can feel it in his bones: this is one of those rare days when everything goes _right_.


End file.
